


Intel

by fannishliss



Series: Kink List [22]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Kink Meme, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Prostate Massage, Super Soldier Sex, coming on command
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 10:09:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7973014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky isn't sure about how his personality comes across after his recovery from the triggers.  He's still a work in progress. Home in Brooklyn, Bucky wants to be sure Steve knows just how much he loves him. Saying exactly how they feel requires some explicit language, and both of them enjoy it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intel

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my Kink List project, dirty talk. Probably not that dirty in the grand scheme of things, but I think it does at least register on the Heat Meter. :D Please let me know if you like it!!
> 
> Note: My post Civil War stuff stays in canon with what happened in the movie, but also, follows on from my story [Longing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6949354/chapters/15846331), as to how they got rid of Bucky's triggers and gave him a new arm etc. :D

Bucky sits in the kitchen at 146 Montague Street.    
  
It’s surreal, seventy years later, to be back at home at the very same address.  Back then, it was dingy and rundown, shabby and maybe a little dangerous.  At the Brooklyn History Museum (just around the corner!) Steve found out that HP Lovecraft himself had lived in Brooklyn Heights just a few blocks over and despised the entire neighborhood.    
  
Bucky and Steve had never hated their crummy little cold-water flat. They had loved living together, making a home with each other.  They were happy, they took care of each other, and that was enough, even while they kept secret their dreams of staying together forever.    
  
Now, Steve owns the building.  They have the top two floors all to themselves — their old room was only a fraction of one of the rooms making up the renovated floor plan.  Windows fill the place with light, plenty for Steve to sit and draw, now that he’s taking up his art again. The floors are hardwood, the furniture simple and familiar.  Steve even tracked down a great nephew who had the Barneses’ actual kitchen table, and bought it, with new chairs to match.    
  
Bucky is sitting in one of those sturdy wooden chairs. He almost can’t believe he’s really here. How, after so many years of murder and mayhem, did he get here?  
  
The answer is simple: Steve.  Steven Grant Rogers, when he sets his mind to something, is simply impossible to stop.    
  
Once they dragged Steve out of the ice, the Winter Soldier’s rescue from Hydra and subsequent deprogramming was inevitable. Steve had gone AWOL, jumped out of a plane behind enemy lines, and punched the Red Skull right in the face, all for Bucky.  Steve would stop at nothing when Bucky was on the line, whether that meant going up against Hydra, Shield, the Nazis, the US Army, the World Security Council, the United Nations, the mystical defender and King of Wakanda, or even his own friends and teammates.  Bucky doesn’t really think he’s worth it.  But he believes that Steve thinks so, and that little punk has never known when to stay down.    
  
Steve is reading, wedged into one end of his giant couch. Afternoon light shines in through the windows, and Steve glows golden, shining like an angel out of some Renaissance painting.  
  
Bucky feasts his eyes on Steve’s soft golden hair, Steve’s strong golden jawline, Steve’s frankly ridiculous lashes.  That full lower lip so plump and red, just begging for Bucky to bite.    
  
Bucky feels the flat, impassive affect of his own face. Even with all the triggers defused, the habits ingrained into the Soldier are not so easily undone. He doesn’t talk like he did back in the old day.  His expressions aren’t free and easy like they were back then. When he looks in the mirror, his eyes look old. The passions that catch fire inside him when he looks at Steve — he not sure any of that shows. That kind of thing never got the Soldier anything good. The Soldier had learned the hard way to keep his feelings buried, deep. Steve knows how Bucky feels, because he and the witch girl went inside his head. Can Steve tell just by looking, how much Bucky adores him?  
  
If anyone could, you’d think it would be Steve — although, the dumb kid had lived in his armpit for years and never cottoned onto the truth of Bucky’s devotion, so maybe not.    
  
“Steve,” he calls out. His voice is flat and even.  
  
Steve lifts his eyes and closes his finger in the book.  “Yeah?” Steve’s face is always so alive with caring, and concern for Bucky.  Steve’s clear emotion is so different from what Bucky fears he must look like right now.    
  
Bucky feels like he should smile but his lips don’t make that expression so quickly.  He wants to tell Steve how gorgeous he looks in that light, how his face is like a piece of art, how Bucky wants to devour him.  
  
It’s too much.  Bucky feels the little frown dip down between his brows. That’s the one thing they never beat out of the Soldier: the feeling of pain and suffering, the expression that signified pain.  They liked to see it.  They let him keep it.    
  
Bucky would rather not, right now.  He smooths his forehead out again, despite the knowledge it makes him look empty and blank. He’s not in any pain, Steve has never hurt him.  (Dislocating his shoulder and choking him out don’t really count.)  
  
“Steve,” Bucky tries again.  Steve waits patiently.    
  
“Would you please sit over here,” Bucky says.  That’s not really all he wants but at least it gets Steve closer.  
  
Steve lays his book down on the coffee table in a stack with half a dozen others he’s working through, and he comes over and sits down next to Bucky.  
  
Bucky has such clear memories of Steve, how he used to look back then. He wasn’t very tall, but his personality was huge. Bucky loved just being near him. Steve felt everything so strongly. He had so much to say. Bucky, by contrast, was more easy going, but he enjoyed letting Steve work him up. Living with Steve was a delight, even when Steve was complaining. Steve never took anything lying down, he fought every little thing tooth and nail, and he gave every fight all he had. Bucky had to accept it, when Steve bit off more than he could chew: Bucky could worry and complain and tell Steve to simmer down and accuse him of thinking he had something to prove… but Steve was a fighter, he always had been, and that was the way he had to be to survive.    
  
And Steve did survive. Without Steve, without that scrappy punk, where would Bucky be now? One thing Bucky knew: the world would have been a completely different place without Steve Rogers in it.  Erskine might have given the serum to someone else — but without that unique fire that ran through Steve’s veins, what might the serum have done? Would Philips have pushed through some jerk like Hodge? Hodge could never have put together a team like the Howling Commandos, and he certainly couldn’t have led them like Steve did. It took a special guy like Steve to work side by side with a brilliant gal like Agent Peggy Carter. Hell, without Steve, New York City would have almost certainly been blown to smithereens by Schmidt’s Valkyrie payload. Without Steve, Bucky’s transformation at Azzano would have gone as Zola initially planned. As the Fist of Hydra, Bucky might have turned the tide of the war in Hydra’s favor. So Bucky had to admit that Steve was right:  saving Bucky from Hydra’s control undoubtedly made the world a better place.    
  
But it’s not just that Bucky is grateful (he is). It’s not just that he admires the hell out of Steve (he does). It’s this: he fell for Steve the minute he first laid eyes on him. He didn’t even know what it was, that feeling of breathless excitement and joy when Steve was around. They were too young back then to understand what love was or what those childhood feelings would become.    
  
Now, looking at Steve, after everything, in the gleaming light of the dream apartment Steve has brought him home to — Bucky knows. He’s in love with Steve, always has been, always will be. What he has to do now, is show it.    
  
“Stevie,” Bucky repeats, in his flat, grating voice.  
  
“Yeah, Buck?” Steve answers.  His serious blue eyes are trained on Bucky, ready for anything Bucky might say.  
  
“I love you,” Bucky says.    
  
“I love you too,” Steve smiles, and he even blushes a little.     
  
Bucky won’t ever get over the thrill of hearing that. They sleep together again — in each other’s arms like they’ve done their whole lives — but now, with more kisses and cuddles and fooling around. Steve even popped the question.  Bucky had a few qualms about dragging Steve down, but in the end, he said yes. Now they’re finally back in the States, settling into their place, and the wedding is in a few weeks, and all their friends (namely the Avengers and some of the Shield folks and a maybe few long lost relatives) will be there, helping them put the seal on their eternal union.    
  
It makes Bucky proud that he can put such a happy look on Steve’s face with something so easy as promising to stay with Steve for the rest of his life.  
  
“You’re gorgeous,” Bucky says. It still comes out all wrong. It sounds fake, to his own ears.    
  
But Steve smiles. “You’re gorgeous too, Bucky.”  
  
When he looks in the mirror, Bucky sees the lines of suffering Hydra carved into his face. His eyes look so dim and worn out.  But he’s not really gonna sit there and argue with Steve.    
  
“I wanna try something,” he tells Steve, surprising himself.  
  
“Sure, Buck,” Steve says, with no hesitation.  
  
“I want you to take off your clothes,” he says. Well, that’s certainly true. He imagines the afternoon light glowing all over Steve’s beautiful body; he wants to see that with his own eyes.  
  
“Oh!” Steve says, with a little laugh. “Okay.” He peels himself out of his tight tee shirt. His skin catches the light just like Bucky knew it would, and the shadows play harmoniously over the smooth curves of his sculpted torso.  
  
“I just wanna say what I’m thinking,” Bucky says. “Even though it’s gonna sound dumb.”  
  
“It’s not gonna sound dumb to me, Buck,” Steve promises.  A flush turns the top of his chest red, running down his neck from the blush on his face. His eyes are so bright and so blue.    
  
“You look so beautiful, Steve,” Bucky says.  “I mean you’ve always been gorgeous, to me. But just look, your skin is so golden and perfect.”  
  
“Hm,” Steve says.    
  
“You don’t think so?” Bucky asks.  
  
“You’re the pretty one,” Steve grumbles.  “With those lips, and those crazy peepers.”  
  
“No sir,” Bucky says.  “I don’t have a penny on you.”  
  
“Hm,” Steve says again.  
  
“Look at those tits,” Bucky says, and Steve turns all the way red.  “Perfect.  They oughta make a statue of you and put it in the Met.”  
  
“Mph,” Steve laughs.  “They did.”  
  
“Really?” Bucky asks, agog.  
  
“Yes!” Steve laughs, frowning and laughing through his embarrassment.  “The sculptor worked off photos, and he even brought in Peggy and Gabe and Jim.  They gave him critiques so he could try to get it right.”  
  
“Did he?” Bucky asks.  “Did he get it right?”  
  
“It looks pretty garish to me,” Steve says.  
  
Bucky has mixed feelings. “It must be pretty weird to see a statue of yourself in a museum. But I mean, I guess there always has been the wax museum…”  
  
“With the wax museum, you know it’s going to be very lifelike up to the point where it’s not lifelike at all.  But with a statue, the artist is trying to portray reality in such a way as to point to perfection…”  
  
Bucky has to go and ruin Steve’s artistic ruminations.  
  
“Those tits point to perfection, lemme tell ya.”  
  
Steve’s taut little nipples are the definition of perfect to Bucky and he is almost willing to break his commitment to non-violence with anyone who says any less of them.  
  
“Can I kiss them?” Bucky asks.    
  
“Okay,” Steve whispers.  He stands and moves closer to Bucky.    
  
“Lean down,” Bucky says.    
  
“Oh, my god,” Steve says.  He leans down over Bucky and Bucky lifts his face to latch on to one of Steve’s nipples.    
  
“Perfect in my mouth,” Bucky says, licking Steve’s nipple over and over, probing and flicking it with his tongue.    
  
“Ng,” Steve says, panting, trying to hold himself still for Bucky.     
  
“Perfect to touch,” Bucky says, pulling off — he looks Steve right in the eye and reaches up with both hands and pinches Steve’s nipples — not too hard, but enough that he jumps.    
  
The black vibranium arm can feel the pressure he’s exerting, though not the texture of the thing he’s touching.  His other hand registers the rubbery softness of the tight little nipple.    
  
“Do you like this?” Bucky asks Steve. His voice still sounds all wrong in his own ears, but if he can get Steve talking maybe that will be better.    
  
“Yeah,” Steve says.  
  
“Tell me what you like, how it feels,” Bucky orders.  He rolls the little nipples between his fingers.  They feel good in his hands, but the best thing is watching Steve shudder.  
  
“It feels, like, a tickle, or a pinch, but more intense — so many nerves, and it goes straight to my dick,” Steve gasps.    
  
“Yeah?” Bucky says.  “Does it make you hard?”  
  
“Oh Bucky,” Steve moans.  “A strong wind makes me hard. When I was a kid, that never really happened much to me, but after the serum, boy oh boy.”  
  
“I never really noticed you taking care of it, when we slept in the same tent,” Bucky says.    
  
“I didn’t.  It didn’t help, I mean, it almost made it worse — if I got myself worked up like that, I would come, but it wasn’t any relief, I’d just come and come and each time it felt, kind of, worse, until I was so sick and frustrated that I just wanted to forget about it.”  
  
“Gosh,” Bucky says.  He’d never imagined that Steve was in such a fix. Steve hadn’t been super healthy back in the days when they lived together, so Steve never needed a lot of privacy, or so it appeared to Bucky.  Things had been pretty similar in their shared tent during the war and Bucky had never thought about it.  
  
“What about if someone else takes care of you,” Bucky asks.    
  
“I wouldn’t know,” Steve whispers.  His face is so red, and his breathing is shallow, as Bucky quizzes him and just pulls at his nipples without stopping.    
  
“… No one?” Bucky says.  “Not ever?”  
  
“No one but you, you know, lately,” Steve says, and meets Bucky’s eyes.  “I was waiting for the right partner.”  
  
“… Even after I was gone — you waited?” Bucky says.  His heart feels like it’s either jumping for joy or breaking.  
  
“Yeah,” Steve says, refusing to look away.  “The mission where we lost you hurt so bad… and then right away, we went after Schmidt … then I woke up in the future.  I spent a lot of time trying to adjust, still mourning you… no one really understood how awful it was.  I certainly wasn’t looking to court anybody.  And then you showed up …”  
  
“I’m so sorry, Stevie,” Bucky says, “about everything.”  All Steve had gone through, the years they had lost, and then the way Steve had learned about the Winter Soldier and everything Hydra did to Bucky.    
  
“Don’t be sorry,” Steve says.  “It just means we treasure each other that much more.”  
  
“I treasure you,” Bucky avows. “Sap.”  
  
“I treasure you, too, jerk,” Steve laughs.  
  
“Look, I just want…  I want to do good by you, Stevie,” Bucky says.  “I wanna make you feel good.  I think I used to know how to treat a dame right… but you ain’t no dame… “  
  
“That’s for sure,” Steve says, and Bucky rolls his eyes.  
  
“… and I don’t really know what my face is doing most of the time… so I just want you to tell me, how it feels, what you want it to be like.  A little intel, okay?”  
  
“Okay,” Steve says. “Intel.”  
  
“Okay, so talk,” Bucky orders.    
  
“The pinching feels good, but not too hard… but your mouth is even better,” Steve says.  His eyes close, as if talking so explicitly is too much with them open.    
  
“Like this?” Bucky asks.  He seals his mouth around Steve’s nipple and sucks, rolling the other one between his fingers.    
  
“Use your tongue,” Steve says, shivering. “Lick it … oh yeah,  mmm, good…”  
  
Bucky loses himself in the nursing, basking in Steve’s soft groans of pleasure.  The sweet little nubs are getting hotter as Bucky pinches and pulls at them.    
  
“Are you hard now,” Bucky murmurs.  
  
“Are you kidding?” Steve says. “I could drive a nail.”  
  
“Don’t say that again,” Bucky complains with a frown.  Steve laughs, delighted, then breaks it off into a growl and Bucky goes after both tits with a vengeance.    
  
“Could you come from this,” Bucky asks.  
  
Steve shivers again and shakes himself a little.  “I think I could if you wanted me to,” he says.    
  
“If I wanted you to?” Bucky asks.  
  
“Yeah, if you told me you wanted me to,” Steve says. “I think about you telling me to come, like, if you want me to, then I have to, and that nearly always gets me off.”  
  
“Really,” Bucky says.  
  
“Yeah,” Steve says.    
  
“But then you’re worse off than before?” Bucky asks.  
  
“Not always, depends on how much time I have and if I have time to be real thorough with the toys.”  
  
Bucky takes a breath. Toys? This is new information.  
  
“I want you to come, just like this. Get your pants all wet.”  Bucky feels Steve’s body tensing up at his words, the taut tummy quivering. He pinches the nipples harder and whispers into Steve’s ear, “I want you to — come!”  
  
With a desperate groan Steve lets go, his pelvis twitching helplessly toward nothing as Bucky continues to play and suck his tits.    
  
“Can I touch your dick now Steve?” Bucky asks. “Would it be too much?”    
  
“No,” Steve says.  “I mean, yes.  I want you to touch it.”  
  
It sends a fever bolt through Bucky, hearing Steve say it.  They’ve messed around a little since Bucky got his head back together — but Steve keeps saying they should take it one step at a time.  Bucky is ready by now for a giant leap.  
  
“Pull off your running shorts,” Bucky says. Underneath Steve is wearing compression boxer briefs, like always. The tight underwear keeps Steve bundled up during his rigorous workouts, and he always wears them.  
  
Bucky reaches out to stroke Steve through the shorts. The wetness is seeping through.  
  
“I want to feel it, in my hand,” Bucky says. “Sit across my lap.”  
  
Steve sits on Bucky’s lap like a giant kid.  Bucky puts his vibranium arm behind Steve’s shoulders, and puts his other hand between Steve’s legs. He cups Steve’s dick and balls through the cloth.  It’s true, Steve is already hard again.  Bucky had known Steve could go more than once, but he hadn’t really thought about how many times that might mean.    
  
“How does this feel, Stevie,” Bucky says.  He traces one finger up and down Steve’s length, pressing right under the head and then drawing his finger back down.  
  
“Ugh,” Steve says, squirming a little.  “It, it’s really intense. I’m not really sore, after one, but everything feels just a little raw? or, not raw… like, bright? It’s intense,” Steve says.  
  
“Kiss me,” Bucky says, starting in on his ideas for round two.     
  
Steve twists his head around and leans back against Bucky’s arm, while Bucky begins to work his fingers down into Steve’s tight shorts.  Steve laps at his mouth, and gives a little jerk as Bucky reaches the tip of his dick.  The come is cooling but still liquid enough to be slick.  Bucky rubs at the tip of Steve’s dick and kisses him, sucking at his tongue and feeling Steve shake as he does.    
  
“You’re so wet, Steve,” Bucky says as he kisses and laps at Steve’s lush mouth.  “Do you like it, feeling me play with your come?”  
  
“Oh, yeah,” Steve moans. Bucky is amazed at how responsive Steve is.  Steve has been so gentle with him, sweet and by the book. Since Steve has been taking the lead, Bucky realizes he didn’t have a clue how worked up Steve can get — how far Bucky can push him if he takes over.  
  
“You like this, don’t ya, sweetie,” Bucky says.  “Letting me feel you up like this.”  
  
“God, yes,” Steve admits.    
  
“Tell me why you like it,” Bucky demands.    
  
“Oh, I like, I like the way your fingers slip through the come… slide along my dick.. it feels so good…”  
  
Steve’s dick is jumping now, strong against Bucky’s stroking fingers.    
  
“Stand up, Steve,” Bucky orders and pulls his hand away.    
  
“What?” Steve says, confused by the sudden change.    
  
“Stand up, I said,” Bucky says, and Steve obeys.  It gives Bucky a little thrill.  He likes to see Steve do what he says, when he knows Steve is getting off on it.    
  
“Get those things off,” Bucky says.  So Steve does.  His dick is so red now, and wet, and standing straight and hard.    
  
“Show me,” Bucky says. “Show me how you’d do it yourself, and tell me what it feels like.”  
  
Steve gets that little frown between his brows and his lips fall open as he takes himself in hand.  
  
“Oh, it’s not as good like this, Bucky, please,” Steve says.  “It feels so much better if it’s you.”  
  
Bucky reaches out and gently slips his hand around Steve’s dick.  Steve moans and thrusts forward, helpless and eager.    
  
“Slow or fast,” Bucky says.  
  
“Slow,” Steve begs, his frown deepening.  “Please, Bucky — slow.  Oh god, that feels good.”  
  
Bucky watches the blush move down Steve’s throat to spread across the fair skin of his chest.  Naked, he looks better than any statue Bucky could imagine, alive and perfect and glowing.  A delicate sheen of sweat is standing on his skin.  The tender, thin skin of his dick is so red and glistening with his come as Bucky’s hand moves up and down slow and deliberate.     
  
“You wanna come for me again?” Bucky says.  
  
“Yes!” Steve says.  “Please, tell me to come.”  
  
“Okay, do it,” Bucky says.  “Do it, Stevie, lemme see it.”  
  
“Oh, God!” Steve says, and his body seizes up.  His legs tremble, but of course they hold him up, and his stomach jumps as his dick begins to spurt.  The rush of come jumps from Steve’s dick and Bucky smooths it back down, pumping faster, twisting a little tighter around the end, hoping to get it all.  Steve’s face is tight and but his mouth is open as he gives a guttural cry.    
  
“Oh, Stevie,” Bucky says.  “That’s good, that’s so good. Look at that spunk.  I knew you had it in you.”  
  
Steve laughs at Bucky’s wicked pun and wobbles on his feet.  
  
“Sit,” Bucky says, and guides him into his chair.  Steve sits down and slumps back against the chair, relaxed, legs splayed apart. His dick is still at half mast.  Bucky is amazed.  His own dick twitches with arousal, but nothing like what Steve is going through.  Steve’s eyes are closed and he’s breathing through his mouth, deep and even, like Bucky always hoped he could some day.     
  
Bucky runs the fingers of both hands through Steve’s short hair, and Steve hums, pleasantly.  Bucky kisses all around Steve’s hot face, sucks on his ear lobe, kisses his jaw, and bites a little at his neck.  Pinching a nipple still makes Steve jump — clearly they are his weakest spot.  Bucky suckles one and pinches the other and after just a minute Steve is fully erect again.    
  
“Holy cow, Steve,” Bucky says.  “Look at you.  You don’t ever wear out?”  
  
“Not as far as I know,” Steve mutters.  “I just eventually have to give up, take a shower or go for a run or something to get my mind on other things.”  
  
“Damn,” Bucky says. “Well, I guess there are worse problems.”  
  
“What about you,” Steve says softly.  “Anything I can do for you?”  
  
“Absolutely,” Bucky says.  “But not yet.”  
  
Bucky drops to the floor between Steve’s knees and leans in.    
  
“Oh, Buck,” Steve says, and he lifts one hand to stroke at Bucky’s hair.    
  
Bucky sticks out his tongue and gives a lick.  It’s sweet, when he expected it to be bitter.   Must be Steve’s diet — or maybe just the serum.  He slips his lips around Steve’s dick, lowering slowly.  Steve moans and tries not to jerk. Steve’s dick is so smooth and firm and feels good in Bucky’s mouth. True, it hits the back of his throat where the gag reflex is, so Bucky pulls back from that. He wraps his right hand around the base of Steve’s dick, and gets his left hand in behind Steve’s balls, just cupping them and rolling them a little.    
  
Bucky pulls his mouth away, Steve’s dick and balls held secure in Bucky’s two hands.    
  
“Like it?” Bucky asks.  
  
“Yeah,” Steve says, breathing hard.  “It’s not like when I do it myself.”  
  
“Why?” Bucky says, idly jacking him a little.  
  
“Because,” Steve gasps.  “Because I know it’s what you want.  You want to touch me, and somehow, that makes it so much better.”  
  
“Do you want to come in my mouth?” Bucky asks.  
  
“God yes,” Steve says.    
  
“I want you to taste it in my mouth — okay?” Bucky says.  
  
“Yeah,” Steve whispers.    
  
Bucky sinks his mouth back down around Steve’s dick and finds his rhythm.  The bobbing, sliding motion is soothing against his tongue, as long as he doesn’t go too deep.     
  
Steve’s moans get louder and his dick seems to pulse, and then, the come is hitting the back of his tongue.  It’s thick, but not so much that he would choke.  He swallows it down, no problem, and pulls off of Steve.    
  
Bucky slips his tongue right into Steve’s open mouth, and feels Steve sucking at him, wanting to taste himself because that’s what Bucky suggested.  They kiss, long and luxurious, licking into one another, and Bucky feels Steve dick getting hard yet again.    
  
“Tell me about these toys,” Bucky says.    
  
“Easier to show you,” Steve says.  They stand up and leave the cheerful kitchen, full of light, behind.  
  
The bedroom is darker and cool.  Steve reaches up on the closet shelf and pulls out a box and opens it for Bucky.  There, in the box, are Steve’s toys  — three fake dicks in various sizes, from big to huge, a string of beads, and what looks like a flashlight, but isn’t.  Then there’s a smaller, bent item with a vibration setting.    
  
“Which is your favorite?” Bucky asks.    
  
“This one,” Steve points. “It’s a prostate massager.  It’s not perfect, but it helps get me over the edge when I can’t quite relax.”  
  
“And these other ones?” Bucky asks.  
  
Steve blushes, but meets Bucky’s eyes.  “Fantasy material.  For when I just don’t give a damn and I want something big up my ass.”  
  
Bucky feels his eyes widen.  He didn’t think anything could surprise him any more.    
  
“I think I could help you out there, Steve,” Bucky says.  “Though, those things are pretty big.”  
  
“They say, it’s not the size, it’s the motion,” Steve quips— but he can’t help his little grin.  They laugh and Bucky is so glad that somehow, after everything, he’s found his way home to his best friend.    
  
“Show me how this works,” he says, pointing to the prostate massager.    
  
Steve lies back on the bed after they pull down the covers and lay down a few towels. Bucky raises his eyebrows at the towels but Steve just says, “You’ll see.”  
  
Steve lubes up the device and it slips right in.  The action end isn’t very thick — unlike Steve’s assortment of dildos — but apparently it’s the bent angle that does the trick.    
  
“Oh, yeah,” Steve says, as he adjusts it and turns up the speed on the vibration.     
  
“What,” Bucky says.    
  
“It’s like, a loop.  The more it fucks into me, the more I clench down on it, and that just fucks it into me more — oh shit, oh Bucky, please — touch me!” Steve’s dick is leaking all over his stomach, clear and copious.  Bucky jacks him soft and slow.  
  
“Is this how you want it — tell me, Sweetie,” Bucky says.  
  
“Harder,” Steve grits.    
  
Bucky can’t see Steve’s ass — he’s lying face up — but he knows well enough what it looks like, clenching hard against the devilish little toy, driving it into that sensitive spot just inside.  
  
“Ohhhh,” Steve shouts, as comes starts streaming out of his dick.  Bucky pumps his hand, fascinated, watching as Steve’s eyes roll back in his head.    
  
“Don’t stop—!” Steve begs through gritted teeth as Bucky loosens his grip for a moment.  Bucky grabs the lube with his other hand and flips open the lid, drizzling a little down onto Steve’s dick.  
  
“Jesus! Oh Jesus, Bucky!” Steve shouts, coming harder.    
  
Bucky has never imagined anything like this.  Steve’s orgasm doesn’t stop, it just pulses through him in waves, dribbling out of his dick. Steve is clenching and panting and coming, his hands tight fist in the sheets, his eyes closed tight.  
  
“Please,” Steve begs.  “Bucky— please—“  
  
“What do you need, Stevie?” Bucky asks.  He’s so turned on right now, watching the orgasm roll through Steve, taking him higher and higher.  
  
“Fuck me — “ Steve says.    
  
They haven’t done this yet. Their make-out sessions were satisfying, and they both got off, but Steve was careful not to put any pressure on Bucky until they were both ready. Somehow, Steve had managed to walk the line between coddling Bucky (which he doesn’t) and pushing Bucky forward (which he does, with the slightest, supportive nudges).  
  
Now though, Steve is desperate.  He’s come through multiple orgasms, and Bucky thinks it must surely hurt by now, but if Steve wants Bucky inside him then that’s what he’ll get.  It is a relief, after all, that Steve has had things as big as those dildos inside him — Bucky couldn’t bear the thought of hurting Steve, even a little, after all the disasters they’ve survived together.    
  
Bucky eases the prostate massager out of Steve’s ass, and drops it onto a towel on the floor.  He slicks his fingers and touches Steve’s ass, the slick, puckered muscle that leads inside Steve.  It gives and his finger slips inside as Steve bears down. Steve is so hot inside that Bucky shivers.  
  
“More —“ Steve orders, so Bucky slips in a second finger, and in no time, a third.  
  
“You’re so hot inside,” Bucky tells Steve.    
  
“Just get inside me, please,” Steve said.  “I need it now —  I need it hard — “  Steve throws his legs wide and grabs behind his knees, presenting his ass. His dick, once again, is fully hard, and Bucky is done waiting.  He lines up, rubbing his lubed cock against Steve’s entrance — presses in, and watches, entranced, as he breaches Steve, sinking inside that smooth, hot channel.  
  
“Ohh,” Steve groans, “yeah!  yeah, that’s it, fuck, you feel so good… “  
  
Bucky seats himself, snug against Steve, all the way inside him.  He gives a little thrust, pulling out and pushing it, just to see how it feels.  Steve moans and clenches his ass, and it feels incredible as Bucky pulls further out and pushes back in through that resistance.    
  
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” Steve is chanting.  Bucky would never have guessed how Steve’s tongue loosens up during sex. All Steve’s barriers are down, his inhibitions have flown to the winds, and he’s begging Bucky like he’s yearned for this his whole life… just like Bucky has — and it hits Bucky just how long they’ve desperately wanted each other — how long they’ve held back from giving each other everything they have to give — but not any more.  They’re together now, fully together at last, and Bucky will never hold anything back from Steve ever again.    
  
“Jesus, Steve, just look at you! You were made for this. You’ll never get enough!”  
  
“Harder!” Steve says through clenched teeth.    
  
Bucky fucks him with everything he has, clamping down on one of Steve’s tits and sucking the little nub as hard as he can, grabbing hold of Steve’s wet dick and jacking it in time with his powerful thrusts.  He’s hitting Steve’s prostate every time, he can tell by the little spurts of fluid still coming out.    
  
“Bucky!” Steve shouts, and his whole body seizes as he finally comes, more powerfully than ever — Bucky hangs on — fucking into him as well as he can — giving Steve that final crucial bit of stimulation, and Steve goes limp.  Bucky gives in and lets himself go, coming deep inside Steve’s ass, and finally easing out.  Steve is out cold, his dick finally going soft at last.    
  
Bucky grabs one of the towels and wipes Steve off as well as he can.  He snuggles up against Steve and settles in to nap beside him.    
  
“I love you, Stevie,” he says, and the world is clear and calm all around them.  
  
“Love ya, Buck,” Steve murmurs, still fast asleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> I actually went to Brooklyn Heights to visit the location of Steve's building. It's a beautiful tree lined street. The houses are quite old. They would have been run down during the Depression and been divided up into smaller rooms to let. A cold water flat would have had a sink only, with communal toilets down the hall. 
> 
> HP Lovecraft hated Brooklyn Heights -- historical fact. :) 
> 
> Why does Steve live in Brooklyn Heights and not somewhere else? It's based on a canon Marvel map of where the superheroes lived. Steve's dot is in Brooklyn Heights, one of the gayest neighborhoods in New York. :D  
> Here is a link to an image of the map, from original edition of the Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe, c. 1982-85.  
> https://www.flickr.com/photos/cully/437261189/in/photostream/
> 
> The specific address 146 Montague is what I chose for when I had dog tags made. :D I liked the looks of it on google streetview, but also, you know, Montague is where Sherlock's old digs were before he got evicted. :D :D :D
> 
> Apparently in the comics Steve now has a place in Red Hook? But I like my old headcanon. :P


End file.
